


Enthralled

by reginleiv



Category: Choice of Games, Vampire: The Masquerade — Night Road
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, M/M, Reader is not gendered, Reader is the Protagonist, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27005911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginleiv/pseuds/reginleiv
Summary: Bloodbound and willing, you'll follow him anywhere. In the dark, in the night, to the ends of the world.[Julian Sim/Reader]
Relationships: Julian Sim/Reader
Kudos: 7





	Enthralled

**Author's Note:**

> just finished playing vtm: night road and i feel like i had to write something for my favorite! **based on julian's ending, and contains spoilers to the ending of his route.**

Tonight, there is no hurry. With all the threats out of the way, the two of you can finally be at ease even for a little while. For now, there are no Camarillas watching, no Inquisitors scouting just outside your apartment, waiting for the right moment to strike. Tonight, there is only the moon, brilliant against the night sky, and the two of you together, bearing witness to the start of the future you’ve envisioned, created.

Julian is more relaxed tonight than any other night you’ve seen him. You can tell because he is quiet, silent, letting the peace wash over him like a tide. He’s not jittery, restless, eager to move about somewhere. He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry, and somehow the sight of him this relaxed, this at ease is almost a little strange in your eyes. Half of your undead life is spent running — a life on the road has convinced you of impermanence, of all things temporary, your legs always ready to sprint, your wins always ready for flight.

But you’re bound to him now, for better or for worse. And somehow, it’s the best mistake you’ve ever made in your unlife. He doesn’t want you to run away anymore — not from him, not from anything, not from anyone, and so you let him pin you down and trap you in his arms with nowhere else to go but his side. Forever and ever.

And yet, somehow, the thought of it doesn’t bother you at all.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks after a moment, his voice so quiet it barely disturbs the silence. You wonder if you still would’ve heard him if you aren’t what you are — a vampire — but you quickly shake your head and rid the thought out of your mind. It’s too late to dwell on the past, especially when there is so much to look forward to.

His future. Your future. Something you’ve created — together.

You’re quiet for a moment, turning your head to look at him, staring at him for the longest time, taking him in just like the first time: his black hair, his bright eyes, his lips curled into the tiniest of grins, his fangs glittering in the moonlight — sharp, deadly. He’s so pretty that it’s hard to look away. So beautiful. And bound - to you just as you are to him. The thought nearly makes your undead heart race, and you suck in a deep breath, resisting the urge to take his face into your hands and kiss him.

_ Yours.  _ The thought echoes in your head like a broken record, and it nearly makes you smile. Yours, yours, yours. He’ll always be yours.

“The future,” you reply simply, because it’s the first thing you could think of. And perhaps, in a way it’s true. There is nothing left for the two of you but the future, the days ahead of you glittering like stars in the dark night. Bright and blinding like a flash. “You, me —us.”

He smiles and nudges your shoulder with his, and you laugh a little, because it’s not like you to get sentimental over the simplest of things. All this time, you’ve forgotten how it is to act human—to be human—and yet being around him reminds you of everything you’ve lost. And everything you could ever gain.

“What do you think would happen if I didn’t find you?” he asks after a beat, his voice a quiet murmur that gently cuts through the silence. There is a pause between you, and you stop for a moment, mulling his words over in your head, trying to find the right words, the correct answer.

“I don’t know,” you admit with a shrug, and it’s true. You’ve never really thought much about what would happen to you in the future—at least not before he’d found you again. That life had been wracked with desperation, with a need to survive—for a day, for a night. “Running, I suppose. Doing odd jobs here and there. Delivering messages. Running.”

He hums under his breath, letting your words sink for a moment before speaking. “You’re lucky I found you,” he says, inclining his head at you as he shoots a crooked grin in your direction. He means it as a joke, something to lighten the atmosphere, but you couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Where would you be if he didn’t find you? 

Running, probably. Always running.

“I am.”

Julian shakes his head and sighs, though his lips are still curled into a smile, his expression serene, gentle. “Come here.”

You do as he asks, crawling over a little so that you’re closer to him than before. Quickly, he pulls you into his lap and a startled yelp spills out of your lips, your hands coming to rest against his chest in an attempt to keep your balance. He wraps his arms around you to steady you, and slowly, you relax in his grip, breathing out a sigh as you rest your head on the crook of his neck. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his skin, and the words are almost like a sigh as it spills out of your mouth—short, quiet, sweet. “You know that?”

He squeezes you once. “I know.”

He isn’t one to say  _ I love you. _ He isn’t one to whisper the words right back, but when he wraps his arms tighter around you and pulls you close, you know that he feels the same way, too. The emotions echo between the two of you in the silence, two undead hearts beating as one. He leans in and presses a kiss against the hollow of your throat—his lips soft, his teeth sharp, grazing against your skin, hard enough to draw blood. 

Red begins to blossom at the wound, and he laps the blood up, his tongue caressing the skin, his saliva hot enough to make it sting. You whimper against his neck, closing your eyes as your hands move to grip the hem of his shirt, desperately wanting him closer. Whispering a series of words, you chant it like a mantra—the only thing you’ve ever known, the only thing you’re ever sure of. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He chuckles, though he does not let you go, keeping you close to him as he continues in his pursuit: fierce, relentless. Nipping and sucking at your skin, he continues his assault, marking you all over as if he wants the whole world to know who you belong to:  _ his.  _ His, his, his.

No one else’s. Nothing else’s.

You smile against his neck, nuzzling your head against him. Whatever this means, it’s enough. To belong to him is enough. To belong to him is something you could live with— _ for.  _

To belong to him is something you could live for, and that’s enough.


End file.
